Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Cross Purposes
Cross Purposes.
"Child!" said the bard, "dost thou wander now
To gather fresh flowers for thy sunny brow?
Or twin'st thou a garland pure and fair
To fix in thy sleeping brother's hair?
That when he wakes he may smile to see
The nodding roses all plucked by thee?
Tell me, thou child!"
"No," said the child, with accent clear,
I comes just now wi' ma feyther's beer!"
To gather fresh flowers for thy sunny brow?
Or twin'st thou a garland pure and fair
To fix in thy sleeping brother's hair?
That when he wakes he may smile to see
The nodding roses all plucked by thee?
Tell me, thou child!"
"No," said the child, with accent clear,
I comes just now wi' ma feyther's beer!"
"Thy father's bier? has he left thee, child.
To the world's cold blasts and its tempests wild?
Has he left thee beside a deserted hearth
With no one to guard thee on all the earth?
Has he sunk in his pride 'neath the hand of Fate,
And left thee, thou lone one, desolate?
Tell me, thou child!"
"No" said the child with that sunny brow,
"He's been all this mornin' arter the plough!"
To the world's cold blasts and its tempests wild?
Has he left thee beside a deserted hearth
With no one to guard thee on all the earth?
Has he sunk in his pride 'neath the hand of Fate,
And left thee, thou lone one, desolate?
Tell me, thou child!"
"No" said the child with that sunny brow,
"He's been all this mornin' arter the plough!"